Wichita eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1886-1890, 1887-07-03
MY FRIEND BILL.
DIED..

farmer of this county, died at his home after .
short illness He leaves no family, except .
niece of his that he has brought up since he,
parents death ten years ago.
Bill was my friend. Not mine simply be
cause of old associations and some friendly
turns we had done each other in DAYS agone
but because Bill Lopez was everybody
friend. The world is better for his having
lived, and in death he will not stand unre
warded.
That notice may be read and a few shor,
comments INDUCED in by those who knew
him, but the great hurrying world of human
lily VIII skip the paragraph to read the hall
column account OF the new railroad deal OF
representations concerning the effect of the
late frost on the fruit crop.
Little Amy Lopez will clip the notice out
and preserve it. along with lock of the griz-
zed hair and faded ambrotype Of "Uncle
Bill" taken when he was callow youth with
long hair, very long face and long black
neck choker wrapped about his neck. She
viii treasure it, for she knew little Of the
unselfish, sacrificing life that good man lived.
knew Bill when he was boy. His parents
were OF the common stock of Georgia farmers,
only little more shiftloss and unproviding
than the average.
NSS d JACK al all trades. ana
could dig well or weave a cotton basket or
spend a day fishing in the river with equal
facility, and very nearly equal profit. He
was one OF those queer composites that we
meet in life
The neighbors said-and neighbors are sell
dom incorrect in their opinions-that Lopez
would have been good school teacher if he
had had little more learning, and he could
he I'D 49, ,<cI
young enough. He was smart, Intellectually.
but dull, very dull, practically. He was a
Fiddler.
Bill was one of five His mother was a
querulous, discontented woman, who married
his father for his smartness, and regretted it
ever afterward. Bill was the Oldest boy, and
there were two other boys and two girls.
Old John was fond of referring to "my
family" and would frequently ring in "the
old 'oman an the Children" in his converse
tions.
When poor little Bill was mere child he
was compelled to assume the duties of man.
Glad to shift the responsibility off his Shout
ders, old John turned 'the place." as he
called the fine piece of land and the unpro-
ductive little patch he had cleared on it, over
to "Bill am the old 'omann
Bill would plow the old mule when he was
SO small that he had to climb on the fence
corner to put the pillow gear on him. Patiently
he worked, day after day, to help support
the family.
AT ten years old he was little old man. 1t
was then that school was started In the
neighborhood, and old John, with character
istic enthusiasm, signed Bill" The boy took
to education with an eagerness that l have
never seen edualed.
He would study hard all day, tramp two
miles home, and chop wood, look after the
stock, and bring in wood, and then curl up
in corner and study while his mother and
father kept up running argument on the
question of ways and means, before the fire.
Just before the quarter was out Bill
mothers was taken sick and he had to stop
school. 1t was sad disappointment to the
boy, for he had calculated on standing head
of the class on closing day.
II do hate mighty bad to have to stop" he
told me, "but you see Their amt nobody to
look alter ma an the yong uns, fur pap, he's
hardly ever at home. So am 'bleeged to
quit, but l tell you, hit do 60 agin the
grain"
Boy rs was, looked in those great black
eyes and saw how the cloud of disappoint-
ment dimmed the ray of hope that glimmered
there
From that time until he was Il Bill was a
slave. His mother never got well. She
grew more querulous with her continued ILL
ness, and poor Blu bore uncomplainingly
many reproaches from those pinched lips. for
she was his mother, and the unsophisticated
soul of that boy was of too high an order of
nobility to rebel against that divine right, al
though upjustly exercised.
School line came and went, and his two
brothers attended, some of the time. Bill
could not be spared. "He's the main stake in
my fence" John Lopez would say. Really, he
was the fence.
Suddenly John took it into his head to pur-
sue his impractical schemes in still larger
way, and lay down and died. This was the
very acme of his vagaries, and it succeeded
beyond his widest expectations
When his neighbors rounded up the little
mound over old Johns grave, they turned 10
Bill, whose big black eyes were filled with
the tears Of bereavement, but half com
pretended, and said: "Now, Bill, you must
be smart and help your mother raise the
family"
Just as if he had not spent the few years Of
his boyish life doing that very thing.
Il can't never go to school no more now"
Bill said to me, 'for you see it'll take our best
to make tongue and buckle meet"
1t was hard struggle. am so sorry for
poor folks, anyhow; they do have such hard
time of it.
But the patch grew into fie;3 and good
crops were made, and Bill plodded along in
manly fashion until he was Is years old.
The history of AN southerners of 40 years
old and upwards is very much alike. All
went through with the same sad experience,
that wild dream of the war of secession.
Bills family .come up jest like steps, as
old John was won't to remark. Jasper was
16, Zeke was II, Mary was II and little Betsy
was TO- Just like steps, indeed, they were
graded.
Bills mind was not so sluggish as many
persons regarded it. True, he had been SO
long accustomed TO the dull routine of help
less drudgery that he had become habitually
reserved and to the casual observer he ap
peared TO be n numbskull, a mere animal,
moved more by instinct and mechanical habit
shan by a superior intelligence. But | knew
something Of his inner nature. Away down
deep in his soul there were eddies and counter
lurrents that chafed and nlurmurei beneath
the placid, slow moving surface that men
observed
Bill loved Polly Pendleton, and knew it.
She had been the only little sweetheart he
had during his short experience at school.
She had helped him over some hard fences,
and Bill, in his ditfident and reticent manner,
worshiped the little brown eyed, brown
haired beauty from a distance. He used to
tell me that when be got the children all pro-
vided for he was going to ask Polly to come